


ghost

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timmy Chalamet, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, tim chalamet
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Missionary Position, NSFW, Smut, romantic, timothee chalamet fanfiction, timothee chalamet imagine, timothee chalamet smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: You can't sleep, so you find comfort in creating with clay and a pottery wheel. Eventually, Timothée decides that he wants to help.





	ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "hiiii i know you’re backed up so it’s totally cool if you get to this late but i’ve been itching to request this for ages. you know the movie ghost with patrick swayze and demi moore? that scene with the pottery and it gets all steamy and sensual? could you do that with timmy and make it smutty and cute and sweet too?"
> 
> thank you for sending requests, you're the best. find me on tumblr under the same username xx

Timothée had fallen asleep a few hours ago, but you had been much too engrossed in a mystery novel to get anywhere near drifting off. Pages and pages, you drank it in. The words leapt through your mind, twisting together as you tried to work the pieces of the plot together in your mind like a puzzle. You enjoyed mystery novels thoroughly, because you had a knack for figuring out the ending. Once in a while you’d be left rather shocked (Thanks Gone Girl)... but otherwise, no criminal got away from you. No sir. When your eyes began to ache, you turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was after two in the morning. 

A restlessness had taken hold of your legs, for you had been wiggling them around while reading. You stood slowly, not wanting to disturb Tim. He slept so peacefully and serenely, his pale skin smooth and beautiful. You slowly crept from the room, shutting the door quietly behind you. 

The moon was shining brightly into the studio apartment you shared, and you walked through its rays to a small room that you had dedicated to your crafting. Turning the light on, you made your way, without hesitation, to the far corner where your pottery wheel stood waiting for you. You had only taken the art up recently, but you found it to be very relaxing. The clay was cool in your hands as you gathered it together, and it was a lovely, calming feeling.

This room had become somewhat of a haven for you. Your anxiety was something Timmy could relate to, but he was often far more exhausted than you and would fall asleep (and stay asleep) with little struggle. It wasn’t always that simple for you, and your craft room went from a daytime hobby to a source of comfort when insomnia took control. Paintings, sketches, pottery, and coloring were an outlet. You weren’t entirely fantastic at any of the arts, but you enjoyed to create something with your hands. To bring together new life, forms, colors, and beauty. It was soothing and therapeutic. You put your favorite relaxing playlist on shuffle, (a flowing, lovely jazz) took off your t-shirt (now wearing only a teal, simple but lacy bra) so as to not get it dirty, and settled into a comfortable position in front of the wheel. 

You wet your hands thoroughly after preparing the wheel, and then stood to grab some clay. To prevent air bubbles from forming, which could cause cracks or break the piece when firing in the kiln, you threw the clay down on your work table repeatedly and kneaded it roughly for a good while. The work was tiresome for your fingers, but it kept you busy, and that’s all you cared about. The loud echoing of the clay was not something you had considered, as, from across the apartment, Timothée lifted his head in the dark to listen. He smiled as the sound continued to echo. 

Once the clay was prepared, you set it on the wheel and began to slowly pumping the foot pedal to make it spin. It was never quite simple in the beginning, so you used the already tired muscles in your hands and fingers to press the clay into a shape, working it firmly and with determination. After a few minutes you were totally engrossed, pumping the pedal in a steady pace as the clay before you began to take shape. Time crept by slowly, and you felt like you could sit there forever. 

You heard the door to the bedroom open from down the hall after short while and smiled to yourself. You had been avidly hoping that you wouldn’t wake him, but then you realized the amount of noise you had been making. Guilt electrified your mind, but when he came into the room it vanished. Timothée trudged into the room slowly, searching for you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. They landed on you and instantly warmed as he walked over to stand behind you. He was wearing only a pair of green, plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips. 

“Can’t sleep again, mon amour?” His hands rested on your shoulders, rubbing them gently as he watched you work in fascination. A small, gentle kiss landed softly on your neck, and you shuddered, giggling a little.

“Can I ever?” You used your fingers to work a hole into the top of the clay, shaping a vase a little at a time. Moving your foot a bit slower so as to slow the wheel, you concentrated as the hole widened, working your hand around the middle of the clay to create a shape. He waited a few minutes before speaking again.

“Can I help?” Tim’s voice was low, making your stomach flop.

Beaming, you nodded. “Absolutely.” Scooting your body up a bit to make room, you stopped the wheel until he was in place. Settling in behind you, Timmy rested his legs on either side of yours and slowly slid his hands around your sides to your stomach, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping, mister?” You inquired, pumping the pedal again. You wet your hands briefly before continuing to work the shape you were attempting to achieve.

“I am helping, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, massaging your hips with his hands and kissing the side of your neck again. 

You laughed, reaching down to take his hands. He lifted his arms up so you could hold his hands on the outside of the spinning clay, covering them with your own. 

“Don’t put me in charge of the shape, I’ll fuck it up,” he laughed, lifting his hands so he could place them over yours instead. You pressed your fingers and palms firmly into the sides of the clay, and he hummed quietly as he began to slowly rub the top of your hand with his thumb. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. After another minute or so, his hands were slowly moving up and down yours, and he brought the clay with him to get it all over both of your arms. You laughed, not bothering to swat him away. Lifting your fingers to intertwine with his, he squeezed your hands gently in response. 

“I can’t finish my vase if you keep doing that,” you said with a smirk as his hands moved up your arms again. He chuckled under his breath and buried his face into your neck. 

“I’m so very sorry my love,” Timmy whispered, placing kisses along the area below your ear. You leaned your head to the side and sighed softly, closing your eyes. 

Unfortunately you closed them for a second too long, because the structure you had been working on collapsed into itself. You laughed loudly, wiggling back against him and halting the wheel. Much to your surprise and pleasure, you suddenly felt his hard erection pressing against your body. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” He laughed, clearly relieved that you weren’t upset with him. “I was afraid of that happening.”

“Oh puh-LEASE, Chalamet. I can feel you back there,” you said devilishly, wiggling your ass against his hardness. He moaned sharply, sliding his arms around your waist and getting clay on your stomach in the process. “I bet you’re just absolutely devastated that I have to pay attention to you now.”

“Darn?” He laughed, standing up. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to ravish you now. What a chore.” You stood after him, and he pulled your already clay-covered hips closer to kiss you. You sighed and leaned into his body automatically to kiss him back. The two of you stood there like that and just kissed for a short time, and it was strangely one of your more intimate moments together. 

“You’re not ravishing anyone until we both get this clay off.” You pulled back and smiled up at him. “Shower?”

“God I thought you’d never ask,” he declared, taking your hand and pulling you quickly to the bathroom. You laughed quietly, peeling your pants down and throwing them to the side as he turned the shower on. Steam floated to the ceiling almost immediately, and once your clothing was left behind you stepped in carefully. He held the curtain aside for you, and you thanked him politely as he followed you into the spray of hot water. 

You held your arms and hands under the water, using soap to scrub yourself clean. Once that was finished, you allowed him to move forward to do the same. 

“Is there any on my back?” You turned and pushed your hair to the side. 

“Somehow, yes,” he said, laughing quietly. You handed him the body wash and closed your eyes when he took it. He didn’t wash you immediately, though. You felt the tips of his fingers move gently along your shoulder blades, as if he was seeing your body for the first time. Your mouth parted into a soft sigh, and your body leaned back into him. Down your spinal cord now, his fingertips moving along your skin lightly and with an unspoken fascination. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, moving his touch along your lower back. “You astound me.” You whined quietly when his touch vanished, and he laughed as he began to gently wash the clay from your skin. “Don’t worry my love, I plan on having my hands all over you very soon.” After he was finished cleaning you and then himself you turned the water off. 

“Don’t you want to wash your hair?” Timothée inquired, looking confused.   
“No, I want you,” you replied in a low voice, taking his hand and tugging him out. Drying as much of yourself as possible, you grew impatient and tossed the towel aside to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. He responded willingly, groaning quietly into your lips. You reached behind your back to open the door, blindly pulling him with you as you stepped back out into the apartment and then into your bedroom. He followed easily and willingly, his breathing accelerating with each step. 

Falling onto the bed, he crawled over your body and kissed you deeply, his hands moving along your hips and onto your ass. You lifted your head to kiss him back with the same urgency, tangling your fingers in his hair. One hand moved between your legs, and you felt two fingers massage your sex slowly. 

“Fuck you’re already wet,” he groaned, pushing your legs apart impatiently. You opened them wider and hooked them around his lower back, your hands on his cheeks. Foreplay wasn’t necessary, and somehow that made the experience more intense than usual. Tim broke the kiss for a moment to properly line his cock up to your entrance. Unsatisfied, you kissed his neck and jaw until his mouth found yours again. 

Holding your hips, he lifted them gently to meet his own as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Your head dropped back against the pillow, and you gasped his name sharply. He rolled his hips forward and back, making love to you with a deep intensity. You moved your waist up to meet each of his thrusts, feeling him move all the way inside of you. He made soft sounds and grunts as he moved, breathing heavily against your neck and jaw. It was slow and passionate, the both of you saying each other’s names over and over. Some might call it vanilla, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like every delicacy in the world, and not just in taste. 

Timmy lasted longer than usual, and you suspected that it was because he wanted the moment to last as long as possible. You felt the same way. His hips began to pick up speed, though, and you pressed your mouth to his temple gently to encourage him there in sultry whispers. He moaned harshly as his climax rolled into you along with his hips, biting down on your neck. The warmth of him inside of you took your breath away, and you lifted his head to kiss him hard through the orgasm. He kissed you back breathlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist securely. 

When his hips finally stopped moving and he had pulled out of you, he rolled onto his back and beamed. 

“I love you so much,” you whispered, rolling onto your side to see him better. “I always will.”

He turned as well, his smile like sunshine on your skin. “I love you too, sweet and beautiful girl.”


End file.
